


rock isn't all that great anyway

by sorrelleaf (orphan_account)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M, i wrote this a looong time ago, rocker!jongdae
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-09-14 16:53:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 9,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9194303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/sorrelleaf
Summary: in which jongdae is a rock star and yixing is his best friend[interconnected oneshots and drabble series thing]





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> if this is familiar to anyone [lol], it was first posted on my long ago now-deleted lj.  
> reposting because i guess i just wanted to  
> and also because i really loved this  
> i think i wrote this quite soon after seeing chen perform uprising holy that was a long time ago.

Yixing always knew rock was a bad idea. He largely prefers soft guitar chords and gentle phrases, not that throbbing pulsing hard beat and thundering roar that is the rock genre. He's only at this concert for Jongdae, because he didn't know how to say no when Jongdae's mouth did that downward arching pout thing. Also because he is, despite everything Jongdae sometimes accused him of, a great friend.

 

He sighs at the girl next to him screaming into his ear. 'For goodness sakes it hasn't even started, save your breath.' is what he thinks of saying. But fangirls are  _ vicious _ and he would really like his body intact after this...massacre of his eardrums. Jongdae owes him dinner, a high end one, with too many forks and pretentious food. 

 

'He certainly will earn enough after this,' he thinks wryly. 

 

Then the lights dim and the crowd screams.Yixing sighs, because it's a two hour long concert and Jongdae threatened to decapitate him if he left early. 

 

He's thinking what to do with the two hours that doesn't involve losing his life in a stampede when the spotlight blinks on and Jongdae rises up onto the stage. That's when the world stops.

 

The Jongdae on stage doesn't look like his best friend Jongdae, doesn't look like the fluffy haired laughing bouncing bundle of sunshine he's used to. The boy on stage is a stranger, hair styled to sharp perfection, leather encased legs, kohl lined eyes and skin baring shirt. His smile is knowing and devious and sexy and there is an unfamiliar twist in Yixing's gut. It feels like want.

 

The rest of the concert is a whirl of confusion for Yixing, every sense assaulted by screaming and lights and the smell of too many humans in too little space. He is flustered by his own visceral reaction to Jongdae, a reaction that seems almost inappropriate and out of place, in a world of fantasy and unreality, screaming females and desperate desire.

 

Backstage, Yixing is relieved to see that it's not the stranger that greets him, it's his own Jongdae, cheerful, wholesome real, albeit still in the skin of the other Jongdae. His eyeliner is smudged and his hair is mussed, and his clothes are sticking to his skin with sweat, but to Yixing it is a welcome sight, not the same person as the one he saw on stage, less perfect, less suave, more...Jongdae.

 

'How was it! Did you like it? I know you don't really like rock but, was it good?'  _ Was I good _ is the underlying question. 

 

'I got elbowed, punched, pushed and stepped on, my ears are still ringing, and I'm pretty sure I'm deaf in one of them.' Jongdae's mouth droops.

 

'But you were amazing,' Yixing continues softly. 'Amazing.' 

 

The smile that unfurls across Jongdae's face is brilliant. 

 

Yixing wants to tell him that he especially liked the slow songs, when it was just Jongdae's voice, without the headbanging and drama, wants to say it reminded him of the early days, before entertainment companies and auditions and too many practices, when Jongdae would come over and they would sing together, to the accompaniment of just Yixing's piano or guitar. He wants to tell him, he misses him. 

 

But he doesn't. It seems too sentimental for the moment.

 

Jongdae makes a sort of whining groan and falls forward, and Yixing raises his arms and catches him, like he always does. 

 

'I'm tired,' Jongdae mouths into Yixing's skin.

 

And usually that would be Yixing's cue to baby him, or to mock him for his choices in life. But today there's a lance of heat that cuts through his gut at the touch of Jongdae's lips to his flesh. He stiffens and nearly lets go of Jongdae. 

 

'Are you okay?' When Jongdae straightens and reaches for him, Yixing has to restrain the urge to back away and run. 

 

'You're sweaty and gross,' he complains instead, wrinkling his nose.

 

Jongdae's laugh is tentative, and Yixing knows if he wasn't exhausted, he would have tried prying further. 

 

'I'll go back first,' Yixing tells him. 'You rest alright?' 

 

'Okay.' 

 

Suddenly, Jongdae looks nothing like the rock star on stage. He looks like a tired boy, too young too lost. And Yixing lurches forward and pulls him close, ignores the unfamiliar sensation pooling in his stomach.

 

'I'll see you,' he promises.

 

'Yeah.'

 

~~

 

In the cab on the way home, Yixing decides to shove it all to a corner of his mind. He attributes it to the artificial, manufactured environment and tells himself he was overreacting.

 

Later that night he texts Jongdae.  _ I'm sorry, I was just tired. _

 

When he gets a stream of angry and sad emoticons in reply, he chuckles and knows all is forgiven. 

 

_ Nothing's changed, _ he thinks.

 

~~

 

The next time he sees Jongdae is at a fanmeet. One that, just to make things clear, he had no intentions of going for. Unfortunately, an album and a pass appear in his postbox three days before the meet with a note that simply says ‘i expect you there.’ 

 

And Yixing thinks he might be a wuss, a pansy, a complete pushover because here he is, standing in the hot sun at the back of a long queue waiting to shake his best friend’s hand. 

 

‘Hello oppa I love you,’ he says without inflection, when it’s his turn, and Jongdae looks up and laughs. Yixing’s breath stops in its tracks and he wonders why his chest is so tight.  _ Fuck _ he mutters, vehemently. 

 

‘What?’ Jongdae asks, glancing up from the album, and Yixing shakes his head. 

 

‘Just. Fighting Jongdae!’ He makes a pumping motion with his fists and Jongdae’s frown deepens. 

 

Before Jongdae can say another word though, the staff rush Yixing off, and it’s the first time ever that he’s glad to be away from his best friend.

 

~~

 

It isn’t that Yixing is afraid of being attracted to men, if that is what is going on with these almost inappropriate unfortunate reactions to Jongdae, he’s done a little of experimenting before. It’s just he’s always loved women, the smell of their hair, the taste of their mouths, the musk of their skin. The soft smooth supple flesh, sloping curves, and the weight of breasts in his hands. Men are straight lines and right angles and bristly hair; attractive to some, but never really for him. 

 

It’s inconceivable to have that instinctive physical reaction to his best friend of all people. Someone he grew up with, seen in the most compromising of positions, shared secrets and lies with. He simultaneously wants to run far from Jongdae and cleave to him and never let go. 

 

It’s ridiculous.

 

He tells himself it’s a phase, one that he needs to get out of, soon.

 

~~

 

On weekdays, Yixing works, because unlike an almost-famous rock star, he actually has a nine to five job. He teaches Literature at a nearby high school, and usually his classes are mundane, boring and quickly over. Kids don’t like literature, he’s found. Kids don’t actually like reading. 

 

But the week after the fanmeet, his students are uncommonly agitated during class. And at the end of it, he finds out why. 

 

‘Any questions?’ It’s a normal way to end class.

 

There’s a pause, and the girl in the front row nudges her partner and whispers excitedly.

 

‘Teacher Zhang! Do you know Kim Jongdae?’

 

That...was not a question related to the text he had just gone through.

 

‘Kim Jong...dae?’ Yixing stalls. He really doesn’t want to answer this question. 

 

‘Yes we saw you at his fanmeet!!!’ The class titters and Yixing groans inwardly.  _ Damn this Kim Jongdae. _

 

‘He’s my childhood friend,’ Yixing tells them, fond smile playing on his lips. He remembers the day Jongdae had been accepted into the company, remembers the triumph in his eyes and the sunlight that glowed around him, remembers thinking  _ he’ll be magnificent _ . He remembers the bone weary boy that came to his house on practice days, curled up into his warmth, remembers the tears that fell onto his shirt, remembers the years and years of exhaustion and exertion and pain. And most of all he remembers the hope, that same hope that bolsters Jongdae on now, that keeps him going despite all the struggles, his gaze fixed on that dream in the horizon, so close. 

 

He doesn’t tell his class all that though. He just shakes his head and orders them home. 

 

Jongdae is...his friend. And even if he might want more, he doesn’t know what to do about it.

 

~~

 

Three months later, Yixing comes home to Jongdae occupying his couch. 

 

‘What are you doing here?’ he asks. 

 

‘I have a week’s break and I came to visit my very best friend in the whole world!’ It’s an attempt at cheer, at the sunshine persona he usually puts on. But there is apprehension underneath and Yixing knows it’s his fault. His fault because there is reticence in their phone conversations now, long lapses in their text conversations, things he isn’t saying, things he doesn’t know how to say. 

 

Jongdae has always been a little more astute at these things than Yixing is. 

 

When Yixing comes close, Jongdae looks at him, and the vulnerability in his eyes scalds. ‘How have you been, Xing?’ He whispers. 

 

There’s no reason for what happens next, or at least no excuse that Yixing can give. Because he leans forward and presses his lips to Jongdae’s, a test maybe, a confirmation more likely. What he doesn’t expect is Jongdae to melt into him like ice to heat, tangle fingers in his hair and sigh into his mouth. When Yixing pulls away with a surprised jerk, Jongdae scuttles backwards, wraps arms around himself like he’s about to fall apart. There’s a bleakness in his face that Yixing has never seen before.

 

‘Don’t do that,’ he murmurs. And his voice is brittle, like a stray touch will render him broken. The air around them turns thin, like they are atop a mountain, and it’s hard to breathe. ‘Don’t do that if you don’t mean anything by it.’

 

It comes as a surprise, but maybe it shouldn’t have. Maybe he should have seen it, in the tiny touches and quiet questions, in the willing favours and bright smiles. Maybe he should have seen it, in every day they were together. But he didn’t, and now he has accidentally burned where he should have soothed. 

 

He reaches out and grabs Jongdae’s wrist. ‘What if I do?’ 

 

Yixing’s face has always been a blank canvas, each emotion written on it in black thick marker, and Jongdae has always been able to read each word. He watches as Jongdae slowly understands, as hope fills his eyes, different from the one that drives him everyday, more precious, more rare. 

 

When Jongdae slides a hand up his neck, Yixing closes his eyes. This time the touch of lip on lip is more deliberate. He pulls Jongdae close, lets his fingers map the contours of his body, touches warm, real skin underneath clothes. It’s slow and quick, soft and hard, and everything in between. And there’s a look in Jongdae’s eyes that Yixing wants to capture, wants to make solid and tangible to hold. It’s a look that means forever, that is promise and vow tangled in one. He can only hope his own eyes tell the same story.

 

_ Nothing has changed _ , he thinks.  _ But everything is different. _

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

He's pulling away, the bond between them like a string of sticky taffy and just as tenuous.

 

Jongdae wants to reach over the distance separating them and grab him back, glue him to his side, like he's the missing piece in the broken jar. It's terrifying, losing something that you thought would stay.

 

He has always loved Yixing, as far back as he can remember, even when love was just sharing a lollipop in the sandpit of a playground. There should be rules against falling in love with your best friend, with the soft lock of hair that curls over his eyes, with that hesitant sweet smile, with that annoying but endearing dimple that always appeared when he didn't expect it. 

 

And Yixing is straight, at least as straight as one could be with experimentation in his youth. But as straight as Jongdae isn't.

 

So he's allowed himself to take what he can get, faded imprints of radiant colours, not exactly there, probably never there. He tells himself it isn't living half a life, as long as it is something he was willing to do.

 

But now Yixing is drifting away, like a tiny ship lost at sea, and Jongdae doesn't know how to get him back.

 

Going to Yixing's apartment isn't planned, it's a last ditch effort to fix them, fix what he hadn't even known was broken.

 

He doesn't expect Yixing to do what he does, doesn't expect the kiss,  doesn’t expect it to taste of maybes and could bes. He can’t help himself when he responds, can’t help twinning fingers in Yixing’s hair, can’t help shifting close and pressing closer and wanting more, to brand the touch of Yixing into his skin until it can’t be removed without leaving a scar, a mark, a reminder that this had happened. Once.

 

Then Yixing pulls away and it feels like something inside him shatters, something spoilt beyond fixing. His voice shakes in the air, a warning, an admission, a plea, and he feels the last mask crack, he is exposed, ugly, so stupid. 

 

‘What if I do?’ 

 

It isn’t fair, because that question raises his hopes too high, so high that when the fall eventually comes it will tear him apart. He wants to tell Yixing so, tell him that emotions this fragile aren’t meant to be played with so callously. But when he looks up, there is apprehension and fear mixed in Yixing’s eyes, and underneath, like a vein of water meandering through the forest floor, is hope and surety.

 

_ Are you sure? _ he thinks, when Yixing’s turns his face up to him.  _ Are you sure _ ? he wants to ask, when he reaches forward and trails a hand up the side of Yixing’s neck.  _ Are you sure? _ he forgets to say when Yixing leans into his touch.

 

_ I’m sure _ . 

 

It’s in the mouth that opens under his own and the body that arches into his, in the hands that track up his spine and the cries echoed in his ears. It’s words whispered, harsh and tender his his ears, fingers digging into his flesh, it’s Yixing warm and real and whole pressed against him, open for him. It’s love, so strong it chokes him and makes him weak. 

 

(‘Good morning,’ he whispers the next day. ‘We slept on the couch.’

 

‘Oh,’ Yixing responds, peering over Jongdae’s body. ‘Weird you didn’t fall off, it’s quite narrow.’ 

 

‘Now that I have you, I needed to trap you in case you try to escape.’ 

 

‘You’re ridiculous.’ 

 

‘Ridiculous in love~~’ 

 

Jongdae laughs at the colour that snakes up Yixing’s neck. 

 

‘I’m going to shower,’ Yixing says, clambering over Jongdae, mouth stretched tight in faux annoyance.

 

Jongdae watches Yixing’s back, still half laughing.

 

‘You coming?’ Yixing calls. 

 

Jongdae jerks up and runs.)


	3. Chapter 3

'did you know,' yixing says, without preamble when jongdae answers the skype call. 'that my students run twitter accounts dedicated to you?'

 

'what,' jongdae says, still too slow to absorb words and speech.

 

'twitter accounts! where they giggle over your...assets. of sort.' yixing makes a face.

 

'is that so?' jongdae asks, far too smug in yixing's opinion. 'and you know this, how?' 

 

when jongdae tilts his head curiously, yixing colours. 

 

'that's not! the point. the point is they do and it makes me feel-' yixing shakes his head and shudders.

 

'privileged?' jongdae ventures, stifling a laugh. 

 

yixing makes a gagging sound.

 

'proud?' jongdae tries again, barely preventing laughter. 

 

yixing mock punches the screen. 'you're impossible,' he sighs.

 

'are you stalking me online, xing?' jongdae asks, laughing openly now.

 

' _no_ _of course not!'_

 

jongdae arches a single eyebrow and yixing deflates.

 

'yeah, sometimes. i miss you, you know? it's different from before.'

 

'and i really want to tell those kids to stop talking about you like that; it makes my hair stand.' he continues before jongdae can respond.

 

'exactly what do they say about me?' there is a wickedness to jongdae's grin that yixing does not like.

 

'i think i preferred you when you were pining over me.'

 

'i  _ never _ pined.' jongdae looks affronted. yixing smiles behind his hand, remembering a different jongdae, one with his shell ripped away, raw emotions reflected in his eyes. there is a softness and vulnerability to that jongdae that is too quickly hidden in everyday life. 

 

'oh you pined, it was so tragic, so lovelorn.'

 

jongdae glares through the screen as yixing laughs. 

 

'it was your fault anyway, stupid unobservant dumb.'

 

'it's not my fault you didn't show it!'

 

jongdae shakes his head. 'you're so dense,' he says, fondly. then 'i love you, you know.'

 

yixing never expects the first time those words appear between them to be when they are separated by miles, pixelated faces seen only through wires and electricity. but maybe it makes sense, for it to be said like this, like it is a fact set in stone, not a surprise, needing no special reason to say it.

 

'i love you too,' yixing says softly. and even if they're so far apart, the world seems that much smaller.


	4. Chapter 4

2am is when jongdae misses yixing the most, when the world is dark and quiet, and the bed seems achingly empty. sometimes when it hurts too much, he'll call yixing's number and listen to the message, then sing a love song into the phone.

 

7am is when the world seems too cold for yixing. mornings without the whine of a boy who just wants a little more sleep. if jongdae was free and staying over, yixing would get tugged back into bed, limbs tangled around him and breath wafting over his neck. those mornings are the warmest. sometimes he'd call jongdae's number and listen to his message, then leave fragments of verses and poems, words that filter into his head when he thinks of jongdae.

  
on the 16th of september, when jongdae's next album is released, those words are there in grey ink, emblazoned like a love promise in every note.


	5. Chapter 5

when jongdae has to work with a beauty queen for one of his shows, yixing is not jealous. not at all, except he doesn't watch that music video ever and changes the channel each time it comes on.

 

'i don't like that song.' is what he tells his friends. 

 

they don't believe him.

 

~~

 

'did you hear the new song?' jongdae asks when he next comes over.

 

'no.' it's short and brusque and completely unlike the yixing he's used to. 

 

'xing?' he tries, touching fingertips to yixing's forearm.

 

'it's weird,' yixing admits finally. 

 

‘weird?’ jongdae presses, when yixing goes quiet, eyes blank, like he’s looking at something jongdae cannot see.

 

‘yeah, weird. how do you kiss someone and not have it mean anything? how do you hold her like a lover but not actually love her?’

 

‘it’s called acting,’ jongdae whispers, approaching yixing like a handling a spooked cat. 

 

‘i don’t-’ 

 

and then he stops. but there is something terribly sad in his eyes that jongdae wants to wipe away. maybe if it was someone else, they could just have laughed together about the ridiculousness of it all. but some days yixing feels things in its pure unadulterated state, too much, too deep. so jongdae leans over and kisses him, tastes the sadness in his mouth and replaces it with love.

 

~~

 

‘you were jealous.’ jongdae accuses later, when the air is clearer.

 

‘no i wasn’t.’

 

‘really really jealous.’ jongdae sings.

 

yixing throws a pillow at him, rolls away and hides in the covers.

 

jongdae reaches out and curls arms around yixing’s waist, tucks his chin in yixing’s shoulder and kisses the hair the flies near his mouth.

 

‘you’re silly sometimes.’

 

yixing interlaces their fingers together. ‘sometimes,’ he agrees.

 


	6. Chapter 6

'rumour has it that kim jongdae, successful rock artiste, has found love. sharp-eyed fans have noticed a note in his latest thanks to that said 'to you, for everything.' 

 

who is this mysterious you?'

 

'you're in the gossip section,' yixing informs jongdae, climbing back on the bed with the newspaper. 'mind telling your best friend in the whole world who this you is?'

 

'oh i'm not sure really. he looks a little like you, long-limbed, pretty, kind of dense, and he has this same dimple right here.' jongdae presses lips to yixing's dimple and pulls him close, sneaking fingers under his shirt. yixing laughs and drops the paper, catching jongdae's mouth with his own.

 

~~

 

'what are you gonna do though?' yixing asks later.

 

'nothing. they expect a girl anyway. i've never explicitly stated my sexuality.' jongdae shrugs and brushes it off. although his confidence is reassuring, it's also a cut to yixing's heart, how secret their relationship still is.

 

'it'll be okay,' jongdae says comfortingly, mistaking yixing's silence for worry. 'they won't find out.'

 

the problem is, yixing wants them to find out. he wants the world to know, wants to be able to claim jongdae with his words, with his hands, with his mouth, in public, for the world to see. but it is selfish and he tries to never be selfish.

 

yixing is quiet over the next few days, edgy almost. and jongdae is practicing too hard for his upcoming concert so he can't press, pry, figure out why. there's tension in his movement, behind his eyes, even through the pixels. it reminds jongdae about those horrid months before, when yixing wasn't sure, when yixing was afraid. 

 

it's the simplest thing really, that alerts him to the reason. they are eating together on one of jongdae's last break days when yixing points out a couple standing on the side of street, hand in hand, the girl's head tilted up to press lips on the boy's throat. 'aren't they cute?' he asks, seemingly random. but there is longing in his eyes for just that one moment and jongdae thinks  _ oh _ .

 

he looks at them, sitting side by side, carefully not touching and thinks about the casual intimacy of the couple outside. there's an ache in yixing's eyes he recognizes.

 

~~

 

yixing attends jongdae's next concert, mostly because he wants to, but pretends it's because jongdae demanded it. 

 

after the concert, he's trying to extract himself from conversation with his students (goddammit kim jongdae do you have any idea how uncomfortable this is) when there are screams in his vicinity. and he's standing near the entrance to the stadium so he figures it's one of those mistaken sightings. the screams only get louder though, and he finally turns in curiosity. 

 

jongdae is making his way through the crowd to him, a wide beam on his face and yixing thinks what is he up to? 

 

'hi,' jongdae says when he draws near, and slides an arm low along yixing's hips, almost too intimate for just friends. 

 

'what are you doing?' yixing hisses. 

 

'saying hello to you.' that's when jongdae presses his mouth to yixing's ear. any deniability is lost now, yixing thinks, mind supplying visions of crazed murdering fangirls, of jongdae's popularity dropping, of pain and conflict and eventual breakup. 

 

'you're insane,' he says, darting away from jongdae. 'you'll ruin your career, you'll hate me, your fans will kill me.'

 

jongdae’s laugh against yixing’s skin travels through him like electricity. 

 

‘i don’t think they care.’ 

 

and maybe they don’t, because the fear that had clogged his ears clears and he hears little gasps and soft cheers and he looks around to wide eyes filled with shock but not anger and mouths turned up with glee. 

 

‘apparently,’ jongdae whispers, ‘there’ve been theories of this for years. even before we actually started dating. my manager thought the theories were true too.’

 

‘are you saying people have been stalking me.’

 

‘yup, there are even pictures of you on websites, it’s kind of endearing.’

 

‘it’s  _ terrifying _ .’ yixing glances past jongdae to meet the eyes of his students and the absolute delight in their eyes makes him want to hide. 

 

goodbye to normal life then.

 

(to: bane of my existence

_ 16:17 _

my students want to know how good you are in bed.

 

to: love of my life

_ 22:43 _

tell them i’m the best you’ve ever had

 

to: bane of my existence

_ 22:47 _

too late, i told them you were shit and that i stay with you out of pity.)


	7. Chapter 7

Yixing doesn't expect Jongdae that night, content to be by himself with the television blaring some sort of banal show he's never sure why people watch. He has take-out in front of him, one of those generic places, not great but edible. It's been a bad week, those that often happened near exam period. Too much marking and extra classes, cranky students and frantic parents. He's glad to be done with it, at least for a while.

 

It's nice, to be just curled up by himself, phone off, with no looming worries for the time being. Probably would be nicer if Jongdae was around too but he was stuck in dance practice. Yixing snickers as he remembers the incredible whining that had brought about.

 

He is beginning to sink into that lazy, drowsy state of unawareness when there's a sound of a key turning in the lock.

 

'Why did you turn off your phone!' Jongdae demands as he strides in. 

 

Before Yixing can reply, Jongdae flops on the couch next to him, curls arms around him and noses into his hair. 

 

‘Get off you’re gross,’ Yixing says, half laughing.

 

‘Shh,’ Jongdae whispers. 

 

They sit in silence for a moment, blindly watching the flickering images in front of them. Yixing leans into Jongdae and thinks the day got better, just like that.

 

‘Did you eat?’ Yixing asks, after a while. 

 

Jongdae hums in Yixing’s ear, and shakes his head. 

 

‘I’ll get you something,’ Yixing offers, standing up. 

 

But Jongdae pulls him back. ‘It’s okay, m’not hungry. Just stay here.’

 

Yixing worries for a moment, playing with Jongdae’s fingers, listening to his breathing. ‘It’s okay,’ Jongdae says again, like he knows what Yixing is thinking.

 

Sometimes it’s strange, being like this, when seeing each other becomes more a surprise than a regularity. It’s almost like a long distance relationship, almost like loving a stranger. 

 

Maybe that’s why he likes moments like these, when they can just hold each other and breathe. 

 

Jongdae’s breathing deepens and slows and his forehead knocks gently into Yixing’s shoulder.

 

Yixing nudges him. ‘Hey,’ he whispers, ‘Are you asleep?’ 

 

‘Silly,’ he murmurs, when the only answer is silence, and tries to extract himself from Jongdae’s arms. There’s a whine and Jongdae’s hold tightens. Yixing sighs, looks around and rearranges himself around Jongdae. 

 

Well there are weirder places to sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

‘No,’ Yixing says, without hesitation.

 

‘Why not? You’d be great!’ 

 

‘I’m not  _ guest starring  _ in your concert, I get way too much attention at work as it is!’ 

 

‘Pleaaaaaase. We can sing some of these songs.’

 

Sometimes, when Jongdae is free, and Yixing is feeling creative, they pretend they’re children again, plucking out strings and tinkling out keys, creating songs like they used to. 

 

‘No.’ Yixing states, and gathers up the papers with scribbled notes, mouth in a tight line. 

 

Jongdae knows better than to press, sometimes Yixing is stubborn.

 

~~

 

‘Just one song then?’ 

 

Yixing asks this a week later and Jongdae smiles to himself. Sometimes Yixing needs a little bit of time to process something before agreeing. 

 

‘Yes, just one.’

 

~~

 

It isn’t easy to pick one. Somehow over the years they’ve acquired many songs, sometimes, written on scraps of paper, or sometimes, typed up, when Yixing was feeling particularly industrious. 

 

‘This one!’ Jongdae points out, waving one written in one of Yixing’s more sentimental moods, about missing and love and empty spaces.

 

‘No,’ Yixing glares. 

 

‘Fine,’ Jongdae mock pouts and they rifle through the papers again.

 

~~

 

It’s a different kind of song from what Jongdae usually sings; slow and melodic and raw. Nothing left but his voice, and Yixing’s fingers on the guitar. 

 

When Yixing looks up, eyes shining in the spotlight, the world shrinks around Jongdae.

 

And even though they are standing on an open stage with thousands of pairs of eyes on them, to Jongdae, it’s just Yixing. 

 

Yixing and his eyes and smile.


	9. Chapter 9

Jongdae knows it’s his own fault anyway. If he hadn’t insisted on that stupid guest star role, no one would have known that in his spare time, Yixing wrote and composed songs. 

 

And then those stupid offers wouldn’t have come and Yixing wouldn’t have actually considered them and actually started working with the other artistes. And basically Jongdae would still have his boyfriend to himself thank you very much.

 

Instead, now he has to share him with what seems like half the world who seem to want Yixing’s songs. 

 

Unfair, he thinks, scowling as he peeks into another practice room to see Yixing patiently teaching one of his female colleagues. So unfair.

 

~~

 

‘Don’t you have too much to do? Are you taking up too much time with this composing thing?’ Jongdae tries to pitch it as concerned as opposed to completely possessive. 

 

‘No, don’t worry! I’ve figured out how to manage it, and I don’t take up too many jobs~’ Yixing smiles at him and his dimple peeks out and Jongdae huffs. 

 

He contents himself with curling arms around Yixing’s waist and pressing lips to the space behind his ear.

 

~~

 

One of Yixing’s songs ends up being chosen for Jongdae’s newest album. It’s the only one closest to soft rock that he’s created. Jongdae rejoices when his manager informs him.

 

When Yixing enters the practice room, Jongdae beams bright and triumphant at him. Yixing rolls his eyes. 

 

‘I  _ know you _ , this shouldn’t take too long.’ 

 

~~

 

It takes longer than Yixing expects. Jongdae keeps making ridiculous mistakes that Yixing knows would not ordinarily happen. 

 

‘What’s wrong with you today?’ He asks finally. 

 

‘Sorry, just a bad day.’ It’s too glib, too smooth. And sometimes Jongdae is too smooth but not with Yixing, never. 

 

‘What’s wrong, love?’ 

 

‘Can you only write for me instead?’ It’s said in a rush, like it’s been behind Jongdae’s teeth forever waiting to be said.

 

‘....No, I can’t. You sing rock. I usually write ballads,’ Yixing is honestly confused.

 

‘I could have a whole album of ballads!’ There’s something different in Jongdae’s eyes now, but something familiar to Yixing.

 

‘Why, Mr. Bigshot Rock Star, are you jealous?’

 

‘No!’

 

‘Yes, maybe.’ Jongdae sighs. ‘I’m not used to sharing you.’

 

‘You’re not?’ Yixing blinks at him. ‘I’m only giving them time, they get nothing else.’ 

 

Jongdae sighs again, leans into Yixing. ‘I get so little time with you, every moment just seems wasted when it’s spent with someone else.’ 

 

‘But!’ He continues. ‘Don’t stop this, this is good for you. I’m just being silly.’

 

‘Not silly,’ Yixing whispers. ‘Not silly at all.’

  
He tangles their fingers together and presses his mouth into Jongdae’s hands. 


	10. Chapter 10

There are many drawbacks to dating a celebrity, more drawbacks than advantages, if Yixing had to be completely honest with himself. Sure, he’s got himself a boy he loves, who loves him, who sings to him sometimes, late at night through the phone, sappy love songs no one else ever hears. 

 

But. Because there’s always a but isn’t there? He has a boy who he loves and who loves him, who he never really sees for more than a fleeting hour per week. He has a boy who sings to him over the phone but mostly it's because he can’t do it in person. And even when they are together, it seems that the only privacy they get is at home, with all the curtains drawn. Sometimes it seems that every action is over analysed, even the smallest of touches. 

 

You’d think that being openly together would reduce the scrutiny, and curiosity, but if anything it's increased. 'At least we don't have to live in secret!' is all Jongdae says when Yixing brings it up. 

 

But sometimes, Yixing wants to be able to kiss Jongdae in public without pictures filling computer screens the next day, wants to curl arms around his waist without giggling girls whispering around them, wants to not have to answer sly questions from jealous curious inquisitive students, wants a meal without speculation, wants to watch a movie without an audience. Wants Jongdae to be ordinary. 

 

But Jongdae wouldn't want that, wouldn't want ordinary; quiet days in an air conditioned office, day by day consistent constant regular work. There is something different about people born for the stage, like there's a hidden part of their souls that only comes alive under the heat of the spotlight. Yixing sees it, the fire blazing under Jongdae's skin. And he loves it, loves the beauty that is Jongdae on stage, the electricity of his voice that fills up the room, the joy and passion in each word and step and note. But sometimes, he wonders if maybe ordinary would be easier.

 

It almost breaks them apart; this unexpressed, unformed, unconscious wish.

 

They had found an apartment to share close to Jongdae's company, so some Saturdays when Yixing is freer and Jongdae is given time off, they can stroll along the street. Like a normal couple, or as close to ordinary as they can be. 

 

Yixing is used to it at this point, the barely audible whispering and the pointing fingers just within his peripheral vision. He hates it but he's used to it. Used to eyes that seem to raise hairs on the back of his neck, point lasers on his spine. He's even used to the erratic flashing of cameras. It's almost like being in the zoo, caged up for viewing purposes, like people forget you are human too. He tightens his fingers around Jongdae's hand and wonders how he lives the way he does.

 

The paparazzi are more annoying today; maybe it's a slow news day, that they have no choice but to stalk them. Maybe they're looking for some sort of scandal or fight. Or maybe they're just bored. 

 

Jongdae ignores them, ever the consummate professional, talks quietly in Yixing's ear like the sometimes blinding flashes aren't going off, like the sound of shutters are just birds talking in the leaves. But Yixing is uneasy, uncomfortable. He wishes he could take Jongdae somewhere, vanish into obscurity, away from the bright lights and loud sounds and too many many eyes.

 

The lights and sounds and eyes that Jongdae loves.

 

'Yixing, how do you feel about rumours of Jongdae hooking up with his MV actress?' The voice is too loud too close, creeping into his personal space.

 

What.

 

He glances over at Jongdae, instinctive. Jongdae's face is a mask of annoyance and anger. The reporter draws nearer, shoves an article into his face; the gossip section, one he had stopped looking at after they had gone public. He doesn't understand why the world seems to revel in watching happy people fall apart.

 

He thinks he should stand up against it, proclaim his trust in Jongdae, should laugh in the reporter's face. But the truth is, sometimes Yixing wonders if it would be easier if they broke apart. And today, he is feeling too vulnerable. He wants to tug Jongdae away, find a dark corner and hide away from the world and its greedy claws.

 

'Get lost,' Jongdae hisses. 'There is no truth in those rumours.' Yixing is oddly gratified by the strength of Jongdae's assertion, by the steel intertwined in his spine, by the certainty and restrained rage in his voice. So sure, when today, Yixing is not. 

 

The reporter laughs, clicks a few more photos and saunters off. 

 

'Tomorrow, it'll be in the tabloids,' Jongdae mutters, then rolls his eyes and pulls Yixing close.

 

Yixing tugs at his arm, backtracks their way to home and presses into him when the door swings shut behind them. He wants to remember suddenly, the touch of Jongdae's hands and the taste of his tongue and the thrilling sound of low moans.

 

~~

 

The letters come two days later, angrily scrawled missives with threats that he would laugh at, except for the fact that sometimes these words have the ugly possibility of being carried out. 

 

Maybe he should have expected it. In fact, he’s surprised they’ve survived nearly seven months in the public eye without getting it. At face value, Jongdae’s fans might love their relationship, might even coo over the sweetness of it, but he had always known that there was that small percentage that hated it, hated him. And here, in the scraps of paper with too much detail, he guesses he’s found them, or they’ve found him.

 

Jongdae would laugh, he thinks. He wouldn’t take it seriously, he would tell Yixing to let it go. But there’s something jarring about so much hate cloistered in black lines on white paper. And there’s a part of Yixing that takes the words and lets them turn into daggers pressing into his heart. 

 

He doesn’t tell Jongdae, just hides the letters in a corner of his drawer, tells himself that eventually they’ll go away. 

 

They don’t go away. Instead, they come with alarming regularity, resentful words in slanted lines, shoved under the door. Old fashioned but effective. There’s something about holding on to real pieces of paper and looking at curves of penmanship that makes everything seem that much more personal. 

 

He doesn’t say anything to Jongdae. It’s busy period for him anyway, so the only time they see each other is through video call, and it’s easy to hide behind static and listen to Jongdae talk. Easy to pretend everything’s alright, easy to imagine that his own heart isn’t what is confused, that it’s circumstances. He wonders if he deserves Jongdae, the smiling, laughing beautiful man on the other end of the line. Wonders if this is enough. 

 

One evening he comes home to a box of chocolates outside his door, and for a moment he thinks maybe it’s Jongdae. For a full three minutes, he laughs to himself at the sentimentality. Behind the rock star is a cheesy boyfriend. 

 

But the brand is one they never buy, the flavour wrong. And there are warning signals going off in Yixing’s brain. He thinks of spiked drinks and poisoned food, and he thinks of the power of fan love. His fingers tighten over the box, almost crush the cover. It’s this sight that Jongdae opens the door to.

 

‘Xing?’ Only the touch of Jongdae’s fingers on his arm brings him back to reality.

 

‘You don’t like this brand,’ Jongdae says softly, curiously. 

 

‘No, I don’t.’ 

 

When Jongdae looks at him, apparently still at a loss, Yixing takes him by the hand and digs out the scraps of paper he had kept, almost obsessively, for reasons he himself isn’t sure of. 

 

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ There is anger in the bones of Jongdae’s face, but also, fear. Fear, hiding behind his eyelids. 

 

‘I didn’t want to worry you.’ There are no words that can explain his reasoning. Maybe he would have mocked it once, ridiculed it. But lately, he’s been feeling skinned open, too much scrutiny, like no place is an escape, not even work, with laughing too curious students, with their questions that are becoming less innocent. 

 

He’s even stopped taking on composing jobs, or selling his songs, because there’s a suffocating sense of unreality in the whole situation. Yixing doesn’t like the spotlight, doesn’t like beams of attention like spears on his every movement, and maybe binding his life to Jongdae might not have been the right idea, maybe being public with the relationship had been a mistake. 

 

Maybe.

 

But Jongdae’s breath is close and his fingers on Yixing’s neck and jaw are tender and oh how Yixing loves him. 

 

He opens his mouth to Jongdae’s and forgets for a moment.

 

~~

 

He doesn’t know what Jongdae does, probably humiliate them on his social network sites, but it’s enough to stop. For now at least. 

 

There’s still a part of Yixing that wonders about the future and how long they can last.

 

~~

 

The breaking point comes around one Wednesday afternoon when a student leaves a folded newspaper article on his table with a sneaky, secretive smile. Yixing doesn’t like the smile but before he can say anything the girl has run out. 

 

He sighs and fiddles with the folded paper, almost throwing it out, but an odd sense of foreboding and the memory of that girl's smile, almost sinister, makes him open it instead. 

 

Kim Jongdae Cheating?

 

'God,' he mutters to himself, 'will they ever let this go?' He almost pitches the paper into the wastebin but the small photo adorning the article gives him pause. It's a picture of what looks like Jongdae, caught in the arms of a beautiful woman Yixing doesn't recognize. And it doesn't make sense, the world doesn't make sense, it's too cold and too hot and too loud but so soft. He imagines he can feel his heart climbing up his throat. 

 

Maybe it's just all too much, the empty days without Jongdae, the swirling rumours, the blinding flashes and snide comments, the slander that sometimes made their way into his knowledge. Maybe he isn't cut out for this, a relationship, with a celebrity. Maybe love, even one as strong as theirs, just isn't enough. 

 

He doesn't know how he gets home, the world a blurred mess of colour and shape. His stomach a twisting confusion. 

 

It isn't that he believes the rumours, he knows Jongdae well enough. Knows that days months and years apart won't lead to that. At least not unless he has changed so drastically. But it’s suddenly rushing up to him, how much he doesn’t know, how much the world of celebrity and bright lights, perfect smiles and caramel voices remains a shadowy enigma to him. How much pain is caught on the edges of those white teeth and brilliant grins. 

 

A good person would stay, would steel themselves as a rock, the foundation to the turmoil and typhoon that the world of stardom can turn into. A good person would let themselves be the ground that tethers them so they don’t fly too high, too far away from reality. 

 

But Yixing doesn’t know how long he can be the good person. How long before the collateral  hate he gets eats him alive. 

 

How human it is, to judge worth, to list the pros and cons, to measure the weight of each. 

 

Is Jongdae enough? 

 

And it horrifies him that this thought even enters his head at all. Emotions and feelings and love, they’re all well and good, but sometimes, emotions and feelings and love, they can’t overcome everything. And perhaps they can’t overcome this exhausting burden he feels pressing down on his shoulders. 

 

Are they enough?

 

He stares blankly at the pale blue walls, at the pictures of Jongdae and him, at Jongdae’s laughing face, so beautiful. And there’s a bitter taste at the back of his throat, leeching out all hope.

 

~~

 

It’s the familiar whistle the breaks him out of his stupor, and he turns, slow and boneless, as Jongdae skips through the door, beaming up at him. He watches the smile break in half and slide slowly off Jongdae’s face, as worry fills the cracks. 

 

‘Xing? Why are you sitting in the dark?’ The concern in Jongdae’s voice makes Yixing’s heart hurt. 

 

‘Xing?’ 

 

In response, Yixing just passes him the torn newspaper scrap, crumpled from being clenched into his hand for too long.

 

‘This isn’t me!’ Jongdae sounds frantic.

 

‘I know.’

 

‘Then, why-?’ 

 

‘Do you ever wonder,’ Yixing starts, eyes lingering on the cracks in the paint on the ceiling, ‘how long we’ll last?’

 

The resulting silence is terrifying, suffocating, stinging in its lack of sound. Yixing almost wants to swallow his words back down, go back to pretending that everything hasn't become more exhausting than he had ever imagined.

 

'What are you saying, Xing?' Jongdae's voice is small, verging on broken, words held together on a thin string. 

 

'Are you, leaving me?' He asks, when Yixing doesn't answer.

 

'I don't know,' Yixing admits. 

 

When he looks up, he wants to recoil. Jongdae is watching him with the aura of a spooked cat; attentive, careful, unsure, eyes too wide too hopeless. 

 

'Why,' Jongdae grits out, voice brittle.

 

'I don't think I can do this, I don't think I can deal with everything that comes with loving you, I don't think it's e-' He stops.

 

There is dark fury clouding Jongdae's eyes now. 'You don't think it's enough.' He says it flat, expressionless, blank. Yixing wants to reach into the air and pluck away the notes that had made up his words. Words that had slashed at Jongdae like razorblades, leaving wounds only visible in his eyes.

 

'I-'

 

'I want to beg you to stay. I am that pathetic.' Jongdae turns away, curls into himself.

 

'Do you love me?' The question echoes in Yixing's head. Do you love me.

 

'Of course!' He asserts.

 

'Then, why can't that be enough?' And Jongdae draws close, pleading in his eyes.

 

When Yixing doesn't answer, Jongdae scoffs, a mocking exhale of breath. 'Here I am, a semi-famous artiste, begging you to stay.'

 

Yixing reaches out, then pulls his fingers back. 'I'm afraid,' he begins. Then the words pour out, his exhaustion, the too much attention, the hate, how smothering and restricting it all is. Things that came about only by association. 'I can't help thinking it'll fall apart eventually. That we're only prolonging the inevitable.' He lifts his eyes to Jongdae's. 'Wouldn't you be happier, with someone in the industry? Someone who understands, someone...not so, ordinary.'

 

'Would you be happier with someone else? Someone like you.' Yixing starts at the question, stares at Jongdae's waiting face. 

 

He imagines a life without Jongdae, with a different face across the table, beside him in bed. Imagines a life without golden laughter, and joyous smiles. Imagines never seeing the way Jongdae nuzzles deeper into the covers too early in the morning, never being greeted by too loud, deliberately off tune singing, and never being wrestled with for the last chocolate in the box. 

 

Maybe he could live like that, with someone else, maybe it would be calmer, easier even. Maybe he would even like that life better.

 

It's like a gaping wound he could survive, not life threatening. But he suddenly realizes it's a wound he wouldn't actually want to survive.

 

Life isn't about easier, is it? It's about fighting for what you want, what you think you deserve. And maybe dissolving them would be easy, but Yixing thinks, Jongdae is worth fighting for.

 

'No,' he tells Jongdae, eyes alight with revelation. 'I wouldn't be.'

 

'I'm sorry,' he whispers after a beat, watching relief seep into the planes of Jongdae's face. 

 

'We'll work this out okay, we'll make it work.' Yixing lets Jongdae pull him in, feels fingers tangle in his hair, feathery kisses on his eyelids. And he thinks, maybe, just maybe, he'd rather have Jongdae than all the ordinary in the world.


	11. Chapter 11

This had not been the plan. The plan had been take a long break and reconvince Yixing why staying is and will always be a good idea. The plan had most definitely not been work overtime on a comeback album, stay overnight in the studio, practice dance for insane hours, voice for more, record variety at odd hours of the night and comeback stages at crazy time in the morning, only get back home when Yixing is asleep and leave before the sun rises. 

 

It’s empty and yet too full, no time to even breathe but still too much time to miss.

 

Six months slip by, like a too long breath that barely registers. Performances and variety, interviews and photoshoots. All crammed into 24 hours of a day. Some days, Jongdae gets barely two hours of sleep, but he makes the trek home anyway, because he rather have an hour with the touch of Yixing under his fingertips than a million hours with an empty bed.

 

He guesses it's probably a little unhealthy, working like this with barely enough rest or food. He supposes in his later years it'll weigh on his body, in aching joints and broken bones. But for now he tells himself it's enough, it's worth it; his name in glowing lights, on the tongues of screaming people, singing his heart away. It's enough. Even if some nights he can't go home, even if his love can only be expressed in scratched out words on a sheet of paper, in hollow notes across a phone line. 

 

Then, one night Yixing comes, watches quietly in a crowd of ecstatic fans. Jongdae sees him accidentally, smiling softness and something that looks a little like love in his eyes. There's a girl who will later swear that he had caught her eyes during the performance, but all Jongdae sees is Yixing, a dream he wants to keep, more than anything else.

 

And it occurs to him, that if he had to, he'd give up all the cheers and spotlights in the world, for the right to hold Yixing near.

 

~~

 

He must look awful after it's all over, because his manager glances at him and tosses the papers in his hand on the nearby table. 'That can wait, go home for a week.'

 

Yixing is home when Jongdae gets back to the apartment and he has enough time to hear a 'you're back?' before his legs are giving out on him. It's like the weeks and months of overwork have gathered together into a weight chained to his ankles. 

 

When Jongdae comes to, he's tucked into bed, Yixing hovering like a mother hen. There's a focused look of worry that makes Jongdae's heart leap. For years, Yixing has been the one thing he was sure about. And those moments that he wasn't, seemed to tilt the world sideways, turn life on its head. 

 

'Overworking again?' There's a furrow between Yixing's eyes that Jongdae wants to kiss away. 

 

'I wish you didn't have to.' 

 

There it is again, that unmentioned wish that somehow their lives would coincide more, complement more. For a brief moment, once upon a time, they had, when Yixing had been a songwriter-composer. When Yixing had chosen to stop, Jongdae hadn't said a word, but he thinks that's when the gap started widening.

 

'I wish you wouldn't say that.'

 

Yixing's fingers in Jongdae's hair still and Jongdae wants to bite back the words. He doesn't want a fight, he wants to pull Yixing to him, roll under the covers and sleep until the world calls again. 

 

'Still want to be with me?' Yixing's smile is wry. 

 

'Even when you're cranky,' Jongdae affirms. 

 

Yixing laughs, and there is that softness in his eyes again, softness that had disappeared under grey slush for a while. 

 

'Do you still want to be with me?' And it's said lightly, almost offhandedly, but underneath is a vein of trepidation. 

 

Yixing stares at him for a long moment, and to Jongdae, the world itself stops breathing then. 

 

'Forever.' It's said casually, without any special emphasis, but Yixing is a person of words, and that one word holds a lifetime of promise. He turns away, like it meant nothing, quietly mutters something about getting water. But Jongdae catches his hand, presses his mouth to Yixing's knuckles. 

 

'Forever is a very long time.'

 

'Then we'll have a lot of time to figure each other out.'

 

There is something draining away from Jongdae's bones. He thinks it might be uncertainty. 

 

When Jongdae pulls, Yixing lets out a yelp. 

 

'You're not well,' he accuses as Jongdae traps him with arms and legs. 

 

'Exactly. Time to sleep!' Jongdae curves his body around Yixing and closes his eyes. 

 

'Stupid,' Yixing whispers. Then, 'I love you.'

 

'Love you too,' Jongdae murmurs, eyes opening slowly.

  
'Go back to sleep.' Yixing's eyes are gentle and so are his fingers in Jongdae's hair.


	12. Chapter 12

Yixing doesn't particularly like suits, stuffed up starched shirts with noose-like ties and overly pretentious jackets. But there are some things he can tolerate, if he gets to see Jongdae jerk at the sound of his name, see shock dawn like sunrise in his eyes. 

 

There are awards that artistes hold close, a mountain to climb, an almost unattainable dream. So Yixing thinks maybe hearing his name after Best Artiste may have felt like a bizarre hallucination. 

 

'That's you,' he whispers into Jongdae's ear, nudging him gently in the side. 

 

'That's me!' Jongdae repeats. 

 

'Uh huh,' Yixing says encouragingly. 'You have to go on stage,' he prompts.

 

'I do, I have to go on stage.' There is an adorable confusion plain on Jongdae's face. Yixing almost wants to kiss him, then remembers he's in public and there are cameras and settles for squeezing his hand.

 

Jongdae though, has no such inhibitions and presses his mouth to Yixing's for a long lingering moment before clambering out of his seat and nearly stumbling up the stage.

 

Yixing doesn’t listen carefully to his speech, just lets Jongdae’s voice wash over him. He’s heard all the words before; Jongdae had been instructed by his manager to script a thank you speech in the hopes that he would win. He had thought it a waste of time, but diligently crafted one anyway, rehearsing it over the phone and in person with Yixing. 

 

‘...Yixing. Xing, are you listening?’

 

Yixing jumps slightly and looks up. Jongdae is grinning at him, that smile that nobody else gets. He waves, a tiny, shy one and the people near him snicker. 

 

‘Thank you for staying with me. Even when it gets difficult. Thank you for choosing me, and supporting me even when it’s easier not to. I love you.’

 

It's absurd but his mind wanders. Yixing thinks he could have phrased it in a different way, that the sentence structure is a little awkward, as is the hitch in Jongdae’s voice. But there’s a shining sincerity under Jongdae’s eyelashes that is visible even over the distance between the stage and his chair.

 

Yixing thinks that it’s really undignified to nearly want to cry under sight of cameras. In a room full of people made up to within an inch of their lives, to him, Jongdae is the most beautiful.

 

I love you too, he mouths back. And he’s sure that it’ll be on social media that night. But right then, with Jongdae’s gaze on him brighter than all the spotlights around them, he really doesn’t care.


	13. Chapter 13

When you date a celebrity, the best place to be together is at home, with all the curtains drawn and the lights off. As far as Yixing is concerned, that's exactly how one should always celebrate anniversaries. 

 

First or second or 235th.

 

Unfortunately, Jongdae disagrees. 

 

On their first anniversary, no one had known yet, so they had celebrated in a little cafe down the road from their apartment; secluded enough that no one had seen them. Yixing remembers being glad that Jongdae wasn't so popular that people stalked his every move, remembers kissing outside under the moonlight.

 

Jongdae had worked through their 2nd anniversary, six months of heartbreaking work. And he had come back exhausted and frail. He'd promised they'd celebrate somewhere pretty as soon as he could,  but Yixing was just glad he was home.

 

Jongdae has been granted leave for the day and is spilling over with plans. Yixing hasn't quite figured out how to say I really rather stay home, watch a DVD and order in.

 

He doesn't know to say You give so much of your life to the world. For one day I just want you to myself.

 

'Can’t we just stay home?' He asks, when the day of their anniversary dawns.

 

'But I booked-' Jongdae trails off, watching Yixing with a cautious expression. 

 

'I know. And then somehow your whereabouts will be leaked to your fans and somehow they'll end up at the same place and somehow it's....just going to turn into a fanmeet.' Yixing sighs, frustrated that he had allowed himself to vent.

 

'Okay,' Jongdae says after a beat, shrugging. 'I'll just call to cancel.'

 

'I'm sorry,' Yixing mutters ruefully.

 

'It's okay,' Jongdae says, slow considering grin widening across his face. 'Besides we can do other things.' 

 

Yixing wants to hide from the look in Jongdae’s eyes. 

 

‘I was thinking, we could watch one one of those DVDs we bought that we never actually watc..?’ His voice catches in his throat when Jongdae draws near, determined expression on his face.

 

‘Really. That’s all you want to do. We have all day.’ Jongdae leans in, trails hands up Yixing’s sides. His breath is hot on Yixing’s neck.

 

‘I think,’ Yixing says, hands drifting up Jongdae’s back, ‘I could be persuaded otherwise.’


End file.
